The times when magic was commonplace had been long forgotten. And even if rumours of the supernatural do surface from time to time, Marinette isn't one to believe controversies, even if her own life has a few rather peculiar aspects to it.
Adrien...
Ever since she could remember, Marinette had heard the tales. Countless myths of ancient magic and supernatural abilities, shapeshifters and monsters, faes and warlocks. The world used to be a much different place in the past. She envied it. She often pretended she was a fairy herself, powerful and kind, one that cared for people, healed the sick, and fed the hungry. She would spread her arms and run around her garden, flying high in her imagination. With every swing of her hand, she would almost see how flowers would bloom, bushes would grow and trees would bear delicious fruit. She'd kissed not only her own wounds, but those of everyone who would let her because Marinette believed she could heal them.
Then, she grew up.
Magic was nothing but a legend these days, a fairytale to scare the little ones into obedience. And not that she believed the rumours, but monsters, wielding unimaginable powers in Paris? Pfft. Who was to prove they weren't just amoral politicians in the King's court? The members of the Royal family were involved with magic? Nonsense. Corruption and backstabbing lurked in the palace. Conspiracy theories had never interested Marinette. And if no one had ever seen the sole heir to the throne, it was probably because he had some kind of disability or deformity not fit for a future sovereign of France... not because he was a monster with such overwhelming powers he could cause an apocalypse with a single swipe of his finger if he wanted so. Why would the prince hide from his helpless subjects if he were indeed so powerful? It just didn't make sense.
And yet, as Marinette was frantically getting ready for the day, she wished that magic was real and in her life. A tiny bit would satisfy her; just enough to help her with that irritating clumsiness of hers, and she would be eternally grateful. Where were her tiny magical helpers to wake her up on time on the first day of her last year at university so she wouldn't be late? Where was her magical wand? The one she could just flick and instantly look fabulous, instead of rushing out of the door in a mismatched outfit, with a head full of barely combed hair, a croissant in her mouth, and a non-existent hope of not being late for her first lecture.
She strived to at least sneak into an auditorium without attracting the professor's attention, but fate—or rather, a blond guy sitting in the second row by the door—had another idea, as he dropped his pencil right where Marinette was about to step. An instant later, she landed in his lap with a yelp, attracting the attention of everyone in the classroom, including the professor.
Her face hot, Marinette curled in on herself, trying to hide. The blond pulled her closer, protectively shielding her from the world. His hold on her, firm but gentle, sent shivers up Marinette's skin. And maybe she'd lingered longer in his embrace if not for the disapproving hum of the woman standing in front of the class.
Marinette squirmed in the blond's arms, trying to disentangle herself. The moment she looked at his face, she swore thunder cracked somewhere in the distance.
Those eyes...
Her breathing hitched, her heart pumping at an insane rate. She'd seen those eyes somewhere. Green as the richest pastures in the middle of the summer. Warm and welcoming as the sun in the clear sky. Intriguingly emerald, with streaks of mischief in them. So familiar, yet mysterious at the same time. Marinette couldn't look away, gaping at him in wonder.
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